Singin' in the Rain
by coulsonlivesandfurylies
Summary: "I'm singing in the rain, just singing in the rain; What a wonderful feeling, I'm happy again." Arthur Freed The rain brings out a very different Grantaire.


**A.N.**

Inspired by fanart that can be found at art/serenade-you-380676654

I'd like to ask that you all go and look at the piece. It is fantastic, and the artist has lots of other great pieces.

* * *

Grantaire loved the rain.

He found that it relaxed him in a way that only art ever did. Perhaps it was that it rejuvenated the world, perhaps it was the rainbow that came out afterwards. It could even be the crashes of thunder and steaks of lightning that accompanied each downpour. Whatever it was, Grantaire always found himself lighter when it was raining.

That's why he found himself smiling broadly when grey clouds started to form overhead as he walked home from the Musain one evening with Enjolras.

Grantaire looked over at the man he had found himself enthralled with the first day he had met him...

* * *

It had been his sophomore year at the university, while he was rushing across the campus with his portfolio under one arm and a cup of coffee in his hand. He had been skirting around a large group of students when he saw the blond. He had been in the center, on what looked like a plastic bottle crate. Grantaire had stopped in his tracks, completely forgetting that he was extremely late for his Life Drawing class.

The blond had had a look of pure fury on his face, and Grantaire was instantly struck by the image the man created.

One of the students surrounding the speaker reluctantly raised his hand. The blond turned towards his peer, a questioning look on his face.

"Umm... Do you really believe what you're saying? Because... It just sounds like a conspiracy theory."

Grantaire smirked at the look that took over the blond's face. His look of disgust reminded Grantaire of his mothers the first time he stumbled out of his room hungover. It reminded the artist of a painting that his art history professor had had hanging on his wall by Jacob Jordaens that depicted the music contest between Apollo and Pan.

"Of course I believe what I'm saying, and what I'm saying is true. You may not believe it, but that's simply because you have been conditioned from birth to believe everything that you're told by people of authority, never realizing that what they say are lies used to garner money for their own pockets. Man is flawed, and one of the flaws that runs rampant in our society is the abuse of power. The government isn't looking out for us! They are looking out for themselves!"

The blond's voice was that of molten lead; the shine lead one to believe that what he was saying was sweet and kind, but the words themselves burned.

Grantaire shook his head, and started moving again. He paused only once more on his way to his class, and that was by a table that was manned by two other students, one with wavy brown hair and the other with glasses. He looked at the one with the glasses, who greeted him with a smile and a flier.

* * *

It wasn't until that evening while Grantaire was sitting at his easel with two empties and a new bottle in his hand that he remembered the flier. He spent nearly ten minutes trying to find the sheet of paper before finally remembering that he had stuck it in his portfolio. Grantaire all but ripped the leather case open in his rush to read what the sheet said.

It was a simple pamphlet; no over done script declaring the groups intentions. It was in normal Arial, with a header that read 'Les Amis de l'ABC'. The title caused Grantaire to let out a little snort; he could still recall the year of French he took in high school. The meaning was not lost on the artist.

He continued on, reading the rest of it with a speed he hadn't ever reached. The flier spoke of what the group was about (the fact that the government was growing to comfortable with the current state of the nation, and to comfortable with the state they were leaving the people in.), why they hosted so many rallies (to raise awareness for their cause.), and finally what one could do if they were interested in joining (be in the back room of the Café Musain by seven o'clock every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.)

Grantaire stumbled over to his calendar, checking the date. He smiled when he saw that it was a Wednesday. Glancing at the clock, he frowned when he realized it said seven-thirty. He would be late to the meeting, but he had always been of the belief better late then never.

Grantaire lived only four or five blocks from the café; it was one he had frequented his first year, back when he actually cared about his grades. He walked as quickly to the café as he could, making it their in only ten minutes.

Asking the woman at the counter where the back room was, the blonde rolled her eyes and jerked her thumb towards a hallway.

Grantaire thanked her by ordering himself a cup of coffee, hoping it might sober him up. He drank the cup as quickly as possible, slipped a tip into the jar on the counter, and moved in the direction she had indicated.

Grantaire could tell he was in the right place by the loud shouts. Grantaire didn't recognize the voice, only knowing that it wasn't the blond he had come to see.

What Grantaire hadn't been expecting was the silence that rose over the group when he entered.

The blond was the first one to speak. "Yes?" He asked, and Grantaire knew that he was gone.

Grantaire found himself frozen. He couldn't think of a single response.

Finally, the man from earlier, the one with the glasses, spoke up. "Oh, I recognize him Enjolras; he was at the rally earlier today."

"Oh!" Enjolras exclaimed, instantly brightening. He gave Grantaire a smile that cemented in the artists brain the comparison to Apollo he had made at the rally. "So, you're here because you believe in the cause!"

"I disagree," Grantaire mumbled, because he was incapable of letting himself experience a single moment of actual happiness. "I don't think the government is evil. I'm just here for the coffee."

In a second, the man named Enjolras' face turned from the bright smile to a glare. "Well. Then please, get your 'cup of joe' and leave."

"I might as well stay," Grantaire replied, continuing to speak unclearly. "Don't want to interupt you more then I already have."

With that last statement, Grantaire moved towards the only empty chair, one in the corner. Still slightly drunk, Grantaire stumbled before he reached the small wooden chair.

* * *

And that was how Grantaire found himself attending meeting after meeting of the Les Amis de l'ABC. He was now a senior at the university, happily looking forward to his graduation in the spring.

It had only been in the last three months that Enjolras had started to actually talk to Grantaire, besides the odd insult that the blond would throw at the artist. Grantaire always replied with his own, just as decent insult. Even drunk the brunet was witty, which lead most of the group to wonder just how funny he would be if he actually stayed sober.

It had been when Enjolras moved into an apartment near Grantaire that he finally talked to the artist, and even then it was only to ask if he would help him move because the rest of the group was busy with their exams.

After that, the two had struck up a kind of acceptance. Grantaire still ripped what Enjolras said to pieces, but Enjolras realized that the cynics comments did help the cause insead of hinder it.

It had been the last month that the two had started walking home from the meetings together. Sometimes they would continue what ever subject had been up for discussion that evening, other times they would talk about their studies. And sometimes, the two would walk in comfortable silence.

That evening was one of the silent ones. Enjolras had been deep in thought since the first members had started to drift out. The group had a rally planned for in a couple of days, and while the blond would never be described as 'bubbly', when rallies approached, he always was far more serious.

They were only two blocks away from the café when the skies opened up. It wasn't a mist, either; it was pouring.

Grantaire couldn't help but laugh at the look on the blonds face.

"Oh, shut up," Enjolras hissed without any real venom in his tone.

Grantaire managed to stifle his laughter, and another minute passed by in silence. Then, Grantaire started humming.

Grantaire couldn't help but grin when he reached the singing part of 'Singin' in the Rain'.

"I'm singing in the rain, just singing in the rain! What a glorious feelin', I'm happy again!" Grantaire said. Seeing a light post, the artist jogged towards the post and climbed it, hanging on it the same way Gene Kelley did in the film. "I'm laughing at clouds, so dark up above! The sun's in my heart, and I'm ready for love!"

Grantaire looked at Enjolras with the last line, and wasn't surprised by the look of annoyance on the blonds face.

Grantaire frowned, climbing down from the post. "Sorry," the cynic murmured, not wanting to lose the respect that he had worked so hard to earn from Enjolras.

"Why?" Enjolras asked.

Grantaire looked at the blond, and was surprised by the look of genuine confusion on the other man's face.

"Well, I thought you were uncomfortable with me..." Grantaire started, cutting himself off just in time.

"With you...?" Enjolras prompted, obviously set on getting the answer from the artist.

"With me serenading you."

"You were serenading me?"

"Well, that's what singing songs of love to another usually is considered."

Enjolras' had an expression on his face that Grantaire couldn't quite place. It was similar to his 'I have an idea' face, but also like his 'success' face.

Hope, Grantaire realized. That's hope.

"So, you were singing a song of love, to me?" Enjolras asked, trying to clarify what Grantaire had said.

"Yes."

"So, you love me?"

"I don't know about love..."

"You have feelings for me, is that better?"

"Much. Yes, Enjolras, I have feelings for you; you've never realized this?"

"If I had realized it I wouldn't have spent the last two and a half years trying to push you away!"

"What would you have done?" Grantaire asked, completely dumbfounded by this new side of Enjolras.

"Probably something like this," Enjolras replied, and closed the space between himself and the artist in a matter of seconds.

Grantaire eyes widened as the blonds lips smashed against his own. Enjolras had barely tilted his hand, causing the two mens noses to bump against each other.

Grantaire had imagined many times what Enjolras' lips would feel like on his own, but the reality was so much better then what he had dreamed. The blond had surprisingly soft lips, the faint smell of cherry explaining why.

The sound of the rain coming down around them was the only thing that kept Grantaire from believing it was all a dream. As much as he loved the rain, he had never dreamed of it before.

The kiss was over before Grantaire had a chance to respond. Grantaire simply stared at Enjolras, unsure what had just happened.

Enjolras' was smiling brightly, but the smile slowly fled as time passed. After nearly thirty seconds, Enjolras spun on his heel preparing to walk away.

Grantaire reached out and grabbed the other mans hand, pulling him back towards his lips.

* * *

**A.N.**

The art piece mentioned by Jacob Jordaens is an actual piece, but I am unsure if it is actually by Jacob Jordaens. His was the name that came up most in my research of said image, which can be found at this address: content/dam/stb/lots/N08/N08712/1465N08712_ . If I'm not correct and it's by someone else, please inform me.

Also, things I learned while writing this; pissed-at-the-government!Enjolras is really easy to write, writing kissing scenes are really hard, and writing surprised!Grantaire is a ton of fun.

Finally, I'm not completely satisfied with this, but I don't think I'll ever be truly satisfied with my writing.

I hope you enjoyed it, and if you noticed any grammar and spelling mistakes, please tell me.


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